


A Partridge in a Pear Tree

by startrecking



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternative Universe - Not Hockey Players, M/M, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 12:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrecking/pseuds/startrecking
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James can't cook to save his life. Paul steps in and saves the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Partridge in a Pear Tree

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on the Christmas AU “ _hi we’re neighbours and omg are you alright i could smell ~~cooking~~ burning - whoaaa now that’s just embarrassing? step aside i’ll handle this_ ” which can be found on [this](http://blakesmilitia.tumblr.com/post/133627477715/im-always-a-slut-for-a-christmas-au-i-know-we) amazing list of Christmas prompts.
> 
> A huge thank you to whysosirius for cheerleading me through all the hockey fics I'm trying to write this month. Hopefully this should be the first of many!

The last thing Paul expected after returning from an early-Christmas dinner with his family, made necessary because of several work obligations, was to climb the stairs to his apartment with the putrid smell of smoke burning his nose. No alarms were going off which meant there couldn’t really be any fires going on, but still the smell lingered.

He took the final set of stairs to his landing with a scrunched up nose, the smell having gotten worse by then, and saw what looked like the ominous source of the stench. Across the landing from his own apartment, he could see a faint sliver of smoke escaping through the cracks between the door and the doorframe, and had to take a deep breath (despite how hard it was with the burning smell slowly filling up every nook and cranny in the building) to stay calm.

No alarms were going off, everything was fine, or at least he hoped so.

Paul still couldn’t help but worry though, so with a sigh he dropped his duffel bag from the trip on his own doormat and quickly stepping over to his neighbor’s and knocking loudly. He could hear a loud curse from behind the door, the sound of something dropping, and then hurried footsteps before the door was unlocked.

As the door swung open, a cloud of smoke burst from inside the apartment and took him by surprise. Unfortunately, gasping in surprise whilst surrounded by smoke, most often leads to inhaling said smoke suddenly, causing a violent bout of coughs to disorient him.

“Shit, fuck, sorry,” was all Paul heard as he bent in half, trying to rid his lungs of the intruding stench whilst also trying to breathe in enough fresh air to prevent himself dying from asphyxiation.

A heavy hand settled on his back as his coughs finally started to subside; half thumping, half rubbing in what Paul, thought, was meant to be a soothing manner to help him breathe again. Not that it did much help, but he figure that it was the thought that counted.

“Shit, I’m really sorry. I didn’t know how bad it was in here… I just—I wanted to try out the recipe my mom gave me before Christmas and… well…” Paul managed to get enough air back into his lungs in time to look up and see the biggest ‘kicked puppy dog’ look that he had ever seen.

“Maybe next time you should wait for some adult supervision,” Paul managed to get out with a bit of a laugh, slowly standing up straight when he didn’t feel like his lungs were going to give out on him. “Sheesh,” he said, when he glanced a look into the man’s–  _his neighbor’s_ – apartment, the smoke still billowing about in light clouds.

“Wait– did you remember to turn whatever it was off before you ran out here?” Paul said a split second later, and the look on his neighbor’s face spoke a thousand words. Without a reply, he turned and darted back in to the apartment, leaving the door standing wide open in his wake. Paul felt awkward just standing there in the empty doorway, listening to the stream of curses that followed in the other man’s wake, but he didn’t want to leave the other either in case of more damage.

Hesitantly he took a step into the apartment, wafting the air in front of him as he walked, trying to get some sort of fresh air in his lungs, and followed the swear words and noises of, what he assumed were, pots and pans being bashed against each other to the kitchen.

“Maybe you should open a window?” Paul suggested once he’d successfully found the right doorway and was watching his neighbor flurry around the small space trying to save what looked like charcoal from an oven pan. Paul didn’t have to get a close look at whatever it was to know it was a lost cause.

“Jesus!” The guy exclaimed, shocked, and almost dropped the pan he was carrying as he turned to face Paul again.

“Sorry, sorry I just—,” Paul threw up his hands in defense, and gestured towards the door. “It’s just that you left your door open and, well, I wanted to make sure there wasn’t a full on crisis happening in here I guess? I’m Paul, by the way,” he added quickly, “your neighbor?”

At the explanation, the other’s eyes seemed to widen in recognition, “Oh, right!” he said as a grin spread on his face. “Right, yeah, I’ve seen you around! Sorry, uh—,” he looked around wildly for a moment before setting the hot pan down on the edge of the sink in a move that, Paul would say, was nothing short of precocious, before he turned back around and held out a hand for Paul to shake.

“I’m James. Sorry that this is the first impression you get of me, I don’t normally cook so– uh, so my apartment doesn’t normally look like a smoke grenade went off.” James finished off the introduction with a guilty smile that Paul couldn’t help but find charming, so he didn’t have the heart to tell him that his first impression had been that time he’d dropped something in the dumpster and Paul had walked past just as he’d all-but dived in to retrieve it.

“It’s nice to meet you, James,” Paul said with a smile of his own, taking James’ hand in a short shake. “But I meant it when I said you should probably think about opening a window. Before you set off every smoke alarm in the building”.

“Shit, yeah, you’re right,” James said, though it took a moment for him to react to the words, still gripping Paul’s hand in his for just a moment longer than would be strictly necessary. Paul would have wondered about that, over analyzed it or something like that, but the moment after James let his hand fall, the windows were open, and immediately it became easier to breathe. It also became easier to focus on other things but breathing, and that was when Paul finally got an eye on the mess in the kitchen.

Far too many pots and pans than were necessary for any meal seemed to be stacked on every inch of the counter, some covered in flower, some in what looked like chopped up fruit, and others in what looked like previous attempts of whatever it was James had been trying to make. A deep frown spread across his features at the mess, before he settled is judgmental gaze on the culprit behind it. James’ ears turned a deep red the moment his eyes met Paul’s, and quickly downcast his eyes, ashamed and guilty all at once.

And, okay, it wasn’t like Paul was going to berate James, a complete and utter stranger, but he was still more pleased than he should have been seeing James react in such a way. There was only one solution to the problem, however, and that was to get to work. With a deep sigh, Paul unzipped his thick winter coat and hung it next to the dishtowels on the wall, and proceeded to roll up the sleeves of his shirt, only for James to stop him by reaching out and grabbing his arm lightly.

“Wait, wait– what are you doing?” he asked, confused, and Paul was torn between wanting to roll his eyes and wanting to reach out to ruffle James’ hair, just to see if it would rid his face of the worried crease that was wrinkling his brow. Instead, he did neither, opting to shoot him a sarcastic smile and shake off his arm.

“I’m helping you clean up this mess, dumbass,” Paul pushed past James, hip checking him out of the way from the sink and reaching to grab the oven mitts still in James’ hand so he could move the pan that was still hot. “Now, are you gonna help or are you just going to stand there with that stupid look on your face all evening?”

“You really don’t have to–,” James started to explain, but was cut short by the glare Paul sent his way.

“I know, but I want to help. So get your ass in gear and help me out here.”

It took a bit for them to get used to each other in the kitchen space, bumping elbows and almost walking into each other more than once, but as soon as they did, it took no time at all to clean up the rest of the mess. Paul manned the sink whilst James took care of the drying and putting away.

Paul, for the most part, worked in a comfortable silence, but it seemed like James would never shut up even if you payed him to. Instead, he spent the time they took cleaning to explain to Paul just what and why he was attempting to cook in the first place, and how badly it had gone until Paul had showed up, and Paul spent the time grunting and humming in agreement at the appropriate times.

“So wait, let me get this straight…” Paul said, wrist deep in the, now, lukewarm dishwater as he scrubbed away at another burnt pan, “You decided to make  _stuffed pear partridge_  for Christmas, just because your little sister made a joke last year about how you couldn’t cook?”

James nodded from where he was perched on the counter next to the sink, all serious face. He had caught up to Paul with all the drying up, and was just waiting for him to finish scrubbing away at the burnt on food at this point so they could finish together.

“I needed to defend my honor!”

“What and you couldn’t have done that by simply taking cooking lessons? Or like, slowly learned to cook throughout the year? Start of small like normal people would?” James huffed with annoyance at Paul and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting with all the grace or a seven year old who didn’t get his way.

“I’m starting to think you’re taking Becky’s side in all this,” James said, continuing to pout even as Paul shot him a look that screamed are you kidding me right now.

“I don’t even know her– Hell, I barely even know you! How would I be able to take anyone’s side?” He said with a small laugh, shaking his head. “Besides, you’ve got to admit that partridge is a bit ambitious for someone who still burns his grilled cheese.”

“That was one time!” James squawked, pout vanishing as he scrambled to try to regain some semblance of argument, not that there was any left. Paul just chuckled and continued to scrub away at the mess of food.

“I just wanted to prove her wrong for once,” James said, losing all animosity as he settled back on the counter with a small frown. Paul gave him a sympathetic look and decided then, that he was going to do his best to keep that sadness away from a man who looked so good when he was smiling.

“Listen,” he said, not able to stop the sympathy that bled into his tone, but he didn’t think James would mind it that much. “I’m a pretty decent cook, so what if I teach you? Simple stuff to start off with, but we can work our way up to partridges before you need to cook for your family… how does that sound?”

“You’re offering me cooking lessons?” James asked, incredulously, eyeing Paul as though there was going to be a catch.

Paul shrugged. “If you want to call them that. I’m used to making enough food for a small army, anyway, it’d be nice to not have to eat leftovers five days a week, and maybe having a second mouth to share with could help.”

James considered the offer for a moment as Paul finished scrubbing off the last of the resisting blackness from the pot and rinsed it with running water before placing it on the drying board, reaching for the dishtowel in James’ hands to dry his own. Paul let him think about it in silence, reaching for the pot again to dry it off himself.

“Sure,” James finally decided on, just as Paul was bending down to place the pot in the cupboard where he’d seen James put all the others earlier. “As long as I pay for the ingredients myself. I’m guessing you won’t take any direct payment, so that’s the best I can do.”

Paul never knew he was that easy to read, but apparently, James had already keyed in to the side of his personality that resulted him in just giving and giving, but refusing anything in return.

“Okay,” Paul said with a laugh and a nod. “I can deal with that. It’s too late to start any meals now, so I’d recommend you order take out or something, but how about tomorrow? We can start off with something simple like lasagna?” He suggested.

“Deal,” James said with a grin, jumping down from the counter and landing right in front of Paul, almost right up in his face. “It’s a date.”

The word punched all the air from Paul’s lungs as he realized just how much he actually wanted it to be a date. James was young, funny and good looking. Far out of Paul’s league, and yet still he hoped, and that was what allowed him to echo the words right back to James.

“It’s a date.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And as always, you can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/crxsbys) and [tumblr](http://crxsbys.tumblr.com)


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